Firsts: Ratchet and Wheeljack
by Mirage Shinkiro
Summary: G1. Ratchet has wanted to ask out Wheeljack for a long time. He finally might get his chance.


_Title: Firsts: Ratchet and Wheeljack_  
_Author:_ Mirage Shinkiro

_Rating:_ T  
_Warnings:_ mech/mech kissing, a.k.a. intimacy between androgynous and asexually reproducing but male-"pronoun'd" 'bots.

_Disclaimer:_ Transformers is the property of Hasbro, and although I wish I could make money off the TF franchise so I could be independently wealthy, I am not. Alas, I remain poor and am just borrowing the lovely robots.

_Summary:_ G1. Ratchet has wanted to ask out Wheeljack for a long time. He finally might get his chance.

_A/N, explanation:_ This is second in a series of one shots about various couples, all of them surrounding a first kiss.

The idea for this story a common one to this pairing, but I'm not looking to be original so much as to simply write some cute little fluff. Sslaxx tells me the story resembles Fayola's "Explosions and Confessions," so out of courtesy to her, I wish to note that. She definitely has inspired me on several counts.

_A/N, units of time (source, TFwiki):_ joor=roughly an hour; orn=roughly a day; and stellar cycle=roughly a year; vorn=83 years.

oOoOo

**Firsts: Wheeljack and Ratchet**

A resounding _boom_ rocked the Ark, sending Ratchet's neatly organized tools tumbling from their table to the floor. Ratchet stared at the tools with much ire, cursed, realized what the explosion meant, and cursed again. With half the base gone, he was the only medic on call, and even if he weren't, he always insisted on fixing Wheeljack himself if he possibly could. Of course, no one ever asked Ratchet _why_ he always treated Wheeljack, and that was perhaps just as well.

Leaving his poor, abused tools to languish in abject misery on the floor, Ratchet swiftly exited medbay and headed toward Wheeljack's lab. He hadn't made it ten paces before he smelled the smoke, and rounding the corner, he was doused in it, too: thick, black, and roiling. The sickly-sweet chemical smell of the Ark's flame retardant foam added itself to the mix, making Ratchet cringe in disgust. _I'd love to reformat whatever idiot decided to make the slag 'smell better.'_ He pushed his way through smoke, neither feeling much heat nor hearing flames crackle. _The fire must have been short-lived._ He tripped over an unseen sheet of metal, realized it was the door to Wheeljack's lab, and cursed soundly.

"What in the slaggin' Pit did you do this time?" Ratchet didn't bother to reign in his anger. Wheeljack always blew himself up once a stellar cycle, almost like clockwork, and yet he never had managed to land himself in medbay for longer than seven or eight orns. Still, the few times Ratchet had experienced the glitches that produced nightmares, they almost always entailed finding Wheeljack dead in his lab.

A faint groan answered his inquiry, and Ratchet stepped into the room, feeling along the wall until he hit the air cycle controls. Powerful fans kicked on, drawing the smoke and chemical flumes out of the area. To Ratchet's dismay, he discovered Wheeljack planted rather firmly in the lab's far wall.

"Primus!" Ratchet stalked over and pondered the mess. "Do I even want to know what happened?"

Wheeljack gazed down from his inauspicious 'seat' and chuckled weakly. "Well, Gears needed an explosive for the mission Prime's assigned him, and Sparkplug suggested dynamite. But using dynamite would have taken forever, so I thought maybe—"

Holding up one hand for silence, Ratchet frowned and prepared himself to extract Wheeljack from the wall. "I don't want to know." He double-checked to make sure he wouldn't cause further damage, then grabbed Wheeljack by the shoulders. "This might hurt." He braced one foot on the wall and jerked with all his strength.

Wheeljack yelped, and then they both flew across the room. Ratchet landed with an undignified _whoof_, the air knocked out of his intakes, and Wheeljack landed on top of him.

When Wheeljack didn't move right away, Ratchet frowned. "You okay?"

Wheeljack eased himself into a sitting position, only to suddenly hitch and freeze, leaving to him sit on Ratchet's legs. "Uh, no."

"No?" Ratchet sat up slowly, then paused for a moment as he realized Wheeljack was effectively straddling his lap.

Rubbing his right hip, Wheeljack sighed. "I seem to have damaged the joint."

For a moment, Ratchet didn't process what Wheeljack had said. He'd had a crush on his friend for the last vorn, but having watched Wheeljack casually date on nothing but a short-term basis, he didn't want to risk their friendship. Ratchet just didn't _do_ casual dating. Still, with Wheeljack so close to him, all he wanted to do was kiss him.

Wheeljack was staring at him. "Are _you_ okay?"

Ratchet shook his head as though to clear it. "Sure, sure. Just briefly dazed." He shifted, attempting to help Wheeljack climb off him, only for him to yelp again.

"That's not going to work," Wheeljack hissed, clearly in pain.

"I'll try to stand up, then," Ratchet said. "I'll lower you to the floor so your hip only has to go down instead of sideways."

Wheeljack nodded and wrapped his arms around Ratchet's neck. "That should work."

Gathering his strength, Ratchet ran one arm under Wheeljack's aft, then pushing off the floor with his other hand, he managed to shift his weight to his feet and clumsily stand. Wheeljack held on tightly and let his knees capture Ratchet's hips. Ratchet immediately put his free hand on Wheeljack's lower back, steadying him.

The two mechs stared at each other, finding themselves face-to-face for once. Given that Wheeljack only stood as tall as Ratchet's shoulder, it wasn't a common occurrence. Silence invaded the room, broken only by the quiet hum of their systems.

"Uh," Wheeljack began, breaking the spell.

Galvanized into action, Ratchet slowly lowered him to the floor, giving his hips plenty of time to rotate, and setting him on his feet. "There." He tried to speak normally, to pretend like holding Wheeljack so close hadn't aroused him. "Do you think you can you walk?"

Wheeljack had been forced to release Ratchet's neck in the process, but his hands remained on his chest. "No, not by myself. I suspect you'll have to support me."

When Wheeljack didn't move, Ratchet realized they both seemed awkward. _Is it possible?_ he thought, pondering Wheeljack's blast mask. _Could he be interested in me, too?_ Deciding to take his chances, Ratchet reached down and triggered open the mask. When Wheeljack didn't pull away, Ratchet smiled, running his fingertips over his smooth cheeks and full lips. "You really should retract this when you're not on shift," he whispered, marveling not for the first time at how handsome Wheeljack actually was.

"Ratchet . . ." Wheeljack grasped his shoulders, leaning upward, and Ratchet bent down, meeting him halfway. Wheeljack's lips were warm and soft against his, and Ratchet gasped faintly, wrapping one arm around his waist and the other behind his helm. Wheeljack ran his glossa over his lower lip, asking permission, and Ratchet opened his mouth, rubbing their glossae together. Wheeljack moaned and pressed their chassis closer together.

Losing his sense of control, Ratchet pulled away abruptly and chuckled. "Ah. Well, I hardly thought your latest explosion would cause this."

"Neither did I, but I'm not complaining." Wheeljack smiled, and it made his gracefully rounded face seem to glow.

Unable to help himself, Ratchet caressed his cheek again. "You should show off that smile more often."

Wheeljack laughed. "What a romantic little seducer you are! Does this mean I finally get to ask you out on a date?"

Shocked, Ratchet sputtered momentarily. "A-ask _me_? Of all the ironies! _I've_ been wanting to ask _you_ out." He grew uneasy as he remembered why he hadn't. "But 'Jack, I'm not much of a casual dater. I may not be—"

"Hush." Wheeljack reached up and pressed two fingers to his lips to silence him. "I know that. Are you concerned because I've never bothered with a serious relationship?"

Ratchet nodded. Although he'd never bonded, he'd still never been in anything but long-term relationships. "If that's not what you want—"

"It is," Wheeljack interrupted him. "I always figured I'd settle down at some point. I just had to find the right time and the right 'bot. But let's not worry about that quite yet. We haven't even been on our first date."

Ratchet schooled himself to be patient. "Good point. Just as long as we're clear about what we're looking for."

"We're clear." Wheeljack leaned his head against Ratchet's larger chest. "I was just looking for the best time to approach you."

Ratchet hugged him and kissed the top of his helm. "Me, too. Now let's get you back to medbay so I can fix your hip."

"Sure." Wheeljack released him, and with Ratchet's help, began walking toward medbay. "So," he said, his grin still revealed for all to see, "that was our first kiss. How did we do?"

Ratchet laughed, appreciating Wheeljack's odd humor. "Very well, apparently. A second kiss might be in order to verify the results of the experiment, however."

Wheeljack joined in the laughter then, and Ratchet consoled himself with the fact that the next four joors of work might get repaid with more kisses.

* * *

_Postscript: So, I still have every intention of finishing my longer Ratch/Jack story. I'm just waiting until I'm finished posting "Magic and Loss."_

_Thank you to everyone who reviewed "Firsts: Prowl and Sideswipe"!_

_I will take note of any requests I receive. I can't promise I'll fulfill them all, but I'll track them and do as many as time and my muse allow._


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